Talons of the Bald Eagle
by Dead Composer
Summary: Episode 2 of The Incredible Series. Is the Bald Eagle an enemy of the Incredibles, or their only hope? Warning: very mild slashiness.
1. Introducing the Bald Eagle

This story is rated PG.

Disclaimer: The Incredibles belong to Disney/Pixar.

----

On Friday evening, the Parr family sat down to a peaceful dinner of meat loaf. Violet, who typically picked at her food, was eating heartily on this occasion.

"I'm glad to see your appetite's returned, Vi," remarked Helen, her mother.

"She thinks it's Marvin loaf," joked Dash, referring to the mysterious boy who had asked Violet for a date on Saturday.

"Mmmm," the raven-haired girl mumbled wistfully. "Marvin loaf."

Helen was carefully feeding strained carrots to baby Jack-Jack, who gurgled contentedly. The infant suddenly let out a joyful squeal.

"What's he so happy about?" Dash wondered.

In an instant, Jack-Jack transformed from a wriggling baby into a cloud of green vapor. He swirled and bubbled for a second, then flashed back into his usual form.

"It's gas," Bob observed.

"I wonder what else he can turn into," said Violet.

"Nothing poisonous, I hope," said Helen.

The doorbell rang, and Bob answered it. Standing in the doorway were an old friend and his wife--Lucius and Honey Best.

Upon seeing the African-American couple, Dash prepared to hurl the contents of his water cup into the air. "Ice THIS!" he challenged Lucius.

"No, Dash!" exclaimed his mother. "Don't make Lucius use his powers. The neighbors might see it."

"Oh, yeah," said Dash, peering warily in the direction of the house where the Hamilton family lived. "The neighbors."

"What about the neighbors?" asked Honey.

"They're, uh, very inquisitive people," said Bob, not daring to inform him that the Hamiltons, a.k.a. the supervillain trio Triple Threat, were aware of the Parrs' secret and had agreed to mutual silence.

"There's plenty of meat loaf," Helen invited the visitors. "Help yourselves."

"Hurry," Violet joked, "before it...gets cold."

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that line..." Lucius mused.

He and Honey gladly joined in the meal. "We haven't talked to you for a few months," said Bob. "How are things in Municiberg?"

"Same old, same old," Lucius replied. "Some disease got out and turned a bunch of people into zombies, but we held 'em off until a cure arrived. Dynaguy and Magicadabra have come out of retirement, plus there's a new kid who can turn into a tornado. Calls himself Spin Doctor."

"And how's Edgar?" Helen inquired.

Honey spoke in a somber tone. "We haven't seen hide nor hair of him. Soon as he turned eighteen he bought a car and took off, without leavin' so much as a forwardin' address."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"You all know how bitter he was," said Lucius, "growin' up with a super dad, havin' to move around all the time, but with no powers of his own."

"Gosh, that's even worse than what we have to go through," Violet reflected.

The telephone began to ring. Helen, carving a slice of meat loaf with one hand, stretched her free arm and brought the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" She listened for a moment. "Oh, dear. We'll get on it."

While she extened her arm to hang up the phone, Bob inquired about the nature of the call.

"It was Police Chief Mason," Helen related. "Remember the guy in the bird costume who single-handedly shut down a crack house?"

"Yeah, I remember," said Bob. "By the time the police got there, he'd tied up all the dealers. They caught a glimpse of him just before he disappeared into the shadows."

"He's been sighted again," Helen announced, "at the Metroville National Laboratory."

"Oh, man, that ain't good," Lucius remarked. "He could bust into one of the facilities, and get his hands on some seriously radioactive stuff."

"Which is why I'm going to investigate," said Helen.

"Alone?" said Bob with alarm.

"I'm guessing he's one of those masked vigilantes who operate outside the law," said Helen as she stretched her arm to retrieve her super suit from the closet. "I should have no trouble with him."

"I'll wash the dishes," Violet offered grudgingly. "Again."

"Be careful, Helen," Bob urged his wife. "If you need backup, use the homing signal."

After changing into her costume, Helen, now Elastigirl, stepped into the back yard and made sure that no neighbors were peeping over the tall wooden fence. She then twisted her body into a giant compressed spring, and bounced hundreds of feet into the air.

By traveling in this rubbery fashion, she reached the laboratory in less than five minutes. The sky was growing dark, and only a handful of scientists remained in their offices. She saw no evidence of suspicious activity, so she increased her scope of vision by stretching upward like a pole.

The dozen or so buildings comprising the lab were surrounded by a security fence. Security personnel were wandering about, having been alerted of a possible intruder. Elastigirl chose to make her presence known to the officers by back-flipping over the fence and landing in their midst. Six of the officers whirled and drew their guns as she molded back into human shape before them.

"It's Elastigirl," said a guard. "She's okay." The security officers lowered their weapons.

"What's the story?" the stretchy heroine inquired.

"We received an anonymous tip that a bird man would try to steal materials from the lab," the same guard told her.

"What kind of materials?" asked Elastigirl.

"We can't tell you. It's a matter of national security."

"I understand."

Elastigirl lended her aid to the security forces by bouncing from one region of the lab to another. Her keen eyes spotted no signs of intrusion. Night fell, and soon only the moon and the lab lamps provided illumination.

As she scanned the ground from atop one of the buildings, she sensed a disturbance in the blackness. A shape not unlike an enormous black bird whipped past a light pole. Elastigirl stretched her legs and somersaulted toward the spot where she had seen the mysterious form descend.

The area was well lit, but shaded areas remained in corners and behind bushes. The bird-like figure was either hiding, or had flown back whence it came.

She stretched her neck around the edge of a wall, and there it was, slinking through the shadows. A dark being the size of a man, with broad, tapered wings sprouting from its back, a bald pate, and a hook-like beak extending from the center of its face. Its feet made no noise as it crept along.

"You, there!" she called out. "Stop!"

Startled by her cry, the bird man vaulted into the air and quickly vanished around a corner, floating on its wings. Elastigirl pursued with vigor, shooting a rubbery arm toward the fleeing intruder and wrapping her wrist around his foot. She then wrapped her other arm around his wings and torso, and flipped him over so that his front faced her.

A black Kevlar suit covered the strange man's body, except for his head, which was partly covered by a hawklike cowl. He wore a belt and wrist straps to which numerous electronic devices were attached. He was clearly African-American, and quite young.

"Who are you?" Elastigirl demanded.

The man spoke calmly and without malice. "I'm the Bald Eagle."

Attracted by the noisy confrontation, several security guards ran toward the scene with guns drawn.

"I'm here for the same reason you are," Bald Eagle claimed. "Now let me go."

"No way, Jose," said Elastigirl, tightening her rubbery grasp on the costumed young man.

Just as the guards surrounded him, Bald Eagle bent a finger and pressed a button on his gloved palm. A staggering surge of electricity tore through Elastigirl's body, breaking her grip and repelling her several yards away. She collapsed in a distended, semi-conscious heap.

Gathering her wits quickly, she retracted her stretched appendages and leaped to her feet. Several incapacitated guards lay on the grass before her, and the winged man was nowhere to be seen.

"He can't have gone far," she told herself. Indeed, she needed only one spring bounce to spot the hovering intruder in a darkened alley.

As she plunged toward him with outstretched hands, Bald Eagle raised a gloved fist and fired an energy bolt which she narrowly dodged. She was almost upon him when one of his boots belched flames, hurling him from her clutches like a booster rocket. A fierce struggle ensued, as Elastigirl stretched her arms and legs wildly in hopes of seizing the bird man, who dodged and counterattacked using his uncommon agility and stun weapons based on electricity and knockout gas.

"Leave me alone!" he insisted. "We're on the same side!"

Deaf to his entreaties, Elastigirl charged him again. Unbeknownst to her, a strange, oozing mist was passing through the security fence onto the lab property...

----

Next chapter coming soon! The excitement continues!


	2. Chris Confesses

While Bald Eagle concealed himself in the darkness from Elastigirl's probing eyes, the eerie mist floated over the ground toward the very building where he was located. A few of the guards noticed the strange cloud and glanced about in hopes of discovering what had created it, but they gave no thought to the danger posed by the cloud itself.

When the winged man saw the mist creeping closer, he leaped out of the shadows, raised his gloved fist, and fired. The electrical bolt refracted into a thousand white streaks when it hit the center of the amorphous blob. It seemed for a moment that the mist was coalescing into a human-like shape. Bald Eagle prepared to let loose with another blast--but sadly for him, the first shot had alerted Elastigirl to his position.

The rubbery woman pounced, coiling her arm around his glove and ripping it from his hand. Her other arm reached for his cowl, and before she could say "let's see who's behind the mask", his face was abruptly revealed to her. She gasped in disbelief.

Bald Eagle still had one other glove, which he employed to blind Elastigirl with an intense flash of light. She thrashed sightlessly while her vision slowly returned. The environs of the laboratory appeared as a blur, then took definite shape. The bird man was gone.

She whirled around, and spotted a faint outline of wings rising in the night sky. He wasn't using his rocket boosters--she had time to catch him. Dropping the glove and cowl she had seized, Elastigirl quickly turned her legs into springs and bounded toward the fleeing man.

Bald Eagle looked over his shoulder as he flew. She was closing the gap between them, a look of fierce determination on her face. He knew he had to escape, but booster fuel was precious. There was only one thing to do. He hoped she wouldn't be hurt.

Pulling a stringy wad from a compartment in his belt, he hurled it at Elastigirl. It unfurled and expanded, turning into a strong nylon net that wrapped around her. Undeterred, she stretched her arms through the openings in the net, just as something happened which she hadn't expected.

The metal rings binding the mesh suddenly increased in weight, as if willingly giving gravity more power over them. The net, now weighing hundreds of pounds, plunged to the ground with the helpless Elastigirl inside.

The hard impact stunned and bruised her, but she recovered quickly, squeezing her body to the width of a snake in order to penetrate the net. Snapping back into human shape, she scanned the darkened sky in every direction. Bald Eagle had gotten away, but his glove and cowl would definitely count for something.

She couldn't forget the face she had seen. Was it a mistake? How could someone like him become a masked outlaw?

So distracted was she by these questions, that she failed to see the mysterious mist seeping into a ventilation duct behind her...

----

Morning came. Bald Eagle's glove and cowl lay inside a wall safe in the Parr house, hidden from prying eyes and fingers. Violet and Dash had been allowed only a brief look, as their mother considered the electrical weapon inside the glove to be dangerous for children.

"Helen, come look at this," Bob called earnestly. His wife hurried to the living room, and found him clutching a newspaper.

The headline startled her--RARE SUBSTANCE STOLEN FROM NATIONAL LAB.

"I don't understand," she marveled. "He was never out of my sight for more than a minute."

"Maybe he had a partner," Bob suggested.

A light went on in Helen's brain. "Of course! His job was to keep me busy so his accomplice could break in."

"Says here," said Bob, citing the news article, "that a cask containing the world's supply of bolonium was taken."

"What's bolonium?" Helen wanted to know.

Bob skimmed the article while trying to explain. "A newly created element...extremely strong and lightweight...intended for industrial applications, but not weapons. The cask contained only five ounces, but it was worth eight million dollars." He laid down the newspaper and stood up. "Whoever stole it must be looking to unload it on the black market."

Helen nodded.

"Speaking of black," Bob recalled, "you said the Bald Eagle was black. Did you notice anything else distinctive about him when you looked at his face? Scars? Birthmarks? Evidence of dental work?"

She remained speechless. How could she tell him what she suspected?

"We need to find this guy before he sells the bolonium," said Bob seriously. "It's worth a lot to the government."

"I'll try to draw a picture," Helen offered. "Maybe Vi can help me with it."

"Good idea," said Bob.

Helen walked away, but instead of going to Violet's room, she took the cordless phone receiver into the back yard and made a call.

"Hello, Lucius? I have a few questions about your son."

----

It was well that she didn't ask for Violet's help in sketching Bald Eagle's face, as the girl was occupied preparing herself for a lunch date with Marvin. The velour dress and the high-heeled shoes looked fine on her, but she was concerned about something else.

"Mom, do you think I put on enough makeup?"

"If you put on any more," her mother joked, "Marvin won't be able to see your nose."

She drove the dolled-up girl to a nearby cafe where the rendezvous with Martin was to take place. Violet invited herself inside and sat down at a table, where she waited anxiously and breathlessly. Would she make a good impression? Would she get food stains on her dress? Would she remember enough of what Marvin said to record it accurately in her journal?

After a few minutes a blond girl in a blouse and jeans walked into the coffee shop. Violet recognized her as the neighbor, Chris Hamilton. As was her custom, she had parted her hair to flow over the left half of her face.

"Hey, Chris," Violet greeted her when she approached the table.

"Hi, Violet." Chris' tone was solemn, and she expressed no surprise or delight at seeing Violet in the shop.

"I'm waiting for a date," the raven-haired girl boasted.

"Join me in the ladies' room," Chris instructed her.

It was the sort of demand Violet might expect from her mother after turning invisible in the girls' locker room. She knew she was in for a scolding, but what reason did Chris have to scold her?

The two girls entered the washroom, and Chris glanced into the stalls to make sure they were alone.

"There's something you don't know about Marvin," she said sinisterly.

"What's that?" Violet asked her. "Is he gay?"

"No," Chris replied. "He may, however, be a lesbian."

While Violet gaped in confusion, the blond girl reached into the handbag she was carrying, and drew out a lifelike face mask. She carefully stretched it out with her fingers so that Violet could recognize the face.

"What...? Marvin wears a mask? Why? Is he hiding from the police?"

"No, silly," Chris chided her. "He's me. I'm Marvin."

Violet nearly choked on her tongue.

"You...you turned into..." Chris pressed a hand against her lips, prompting her to continue in an outraged whisper. "You turned into a boy and asked me for a date! How could you?"

Chris replaced the mask in her handbag and pulled away the hair that veiled her face. "I'm gonna tell you something I haven't told anyone else, not even my parents."

Violet contained her disgust long enough to listen.

"Maybe I'm too young to be sure," Chris admitted, "but I don't think I'm attracted to boys."

Alarm filled Violet's heart. This was not what she wanted a girl to confess to her in the ladies' room.

"Don't worry," Chris reassured her. "I'm not attracted to girls, as far as I can tell--except when I'm a boy."

More shocked silence from Violet followed.

"My parents won't let me stay a boy long enough to explore my feelings for girls," Chris went on. "But there's one thing I'm pretty sure about." She took a deep, nervous breath. "I...I like you, Vi."

Violet had heard quite enough. Horrified, she rushed out of the washroom and didn't stop walking until she was two blocks away from the coffee shop.

If she had looked behind her, she would have seen the dejected face of Chris Hamilton gazing at her from the cafe entrance. The girl had left the shop without remembering to put her hair over her face again.

----

More coming soon!


	3. The Solon's Fiendish Plan

Violet's mother and parents expressed surprise when they saw her enter the house only twenty minutes after the scheduled time for her date with Marvin. The girl's face reflected disappointment and anger.

"That was a pretty fast date," Dash remarked. "And coming from me, that's saying a lot."

"Uh, yeah," said Violet, anxious to cover up the fact that not only had her date failed miserably, but she had lost a good friend. "Haven't you heard of speed dating? It's the new thing."

"You didn't have to walk home," Helen reminded her. "You could have called me."

"It was a fantastic date," claimed Violet as she went to her room to change out of her dress. "I don't want to talk about it."

The girl disappeared behind the door and slammed it. "Same old Violet," said Bob with a grin.

Once she was back in her dark blouse and slacks, Violet threw herself over the bed and started to feel genuine concern (read: sorry) for herself. What had happened to her was so embarrassing, she dared not even write it in her journal, for fear someone would sneak a peek. For years she had dreamed of dating a boy--not because dating itself was so pleasant a prospect, but because it opened the door for the fulfilment of her other dream, kissing a boy. Finally she had realized her first goal, only to learn that the boy who had taken an interest in her was really a girl. And not just any girl, but a freak from a family of supervillains. Perhaps Chris had taken advantage of her out of spite, as the truce between their families banned the Hamiltons from stealing the money they needed to find a cure for Chris' condition. Yet Chris in the form of Marvin could have gone much further with her, and she would have suspected nothing. It occurred to Violet that Chris might have planned to do exactly that, only to be overpowered by her conscience.

She had misjudged Marvin so horribly. What would her next mistake be? Could she trust herself with boys?

When she had moped for an hour, her mother knocked and entered. "Ready for tennis, Vi?"

----

The Parrs had played tennis using their powers before, and it had come down to a duel between Helen and Dash. Helen could return anything sent her way by stretching her arms, while Dash could do the same by zipping around at super speed. The game had ended in a draw. In the absence of powers Helen was the best player, as she had become adept at the sport during her high school days. Violet's game was improving, but on this occasion her heart wasn't into her performance.

"Come on, sis," Dash chided her after she had missed another of his volleys. "I'm not using my super speed. In fact, I used super slowness that time."

As they strolled away from the tennis court with rackets in hand, Helen brought up a subject she deemed important.

"Kids, now that you're official members of The Incredibles, we should give you superhero names. We can't call you Violet and Dash when we're fighting bad guys."

"You're right, Mom," Violet acknowledged. "Let's call Dash 'Ritalin Poster Boy'."

"Yeah, right," Dash retorted. "Let's give Violet a stupid name, like 'The Disappearing Doofus'. Or an Indian name, like 'Watches Boys Take Off Their Clothes'."

"I do not, 'Runs Into Walls'," Violet snapped.

"Don't fight, children," Helen scolded them.

"Leave them be, honey," said Bob. "I like their ideas."

The argument continued until long after the family had returned home. Finally Helen was forced to literally put her foot down.

"Violet, choose a name for yourself," she ordered. "Dash, don't make fun of the name Violet chooses."

"Okay." Violet gave the matter a bit of thought. "Let's see...I can turn invisible...I can make force fields...put them together and you get...Invisible Force!"

Dash groaned, and his mother glared accusingly at him. "Your turn now," she told the boy. "Choose a name for yourself. Violet, don't make fun of the name he chooses."

"Hmm." Dash scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I can move really fast. What else can move really fast?"

"A loogie," Violet chimed in.

"Be quiet," Helen commanded her.

"Light moves really fast," Dash observed. "But I can move faster than light."

Violet looked eagerly at her mother, hoping she would correct the boy's error.

"You can't move faster than light," Helen pointed out. "But you can move faster than sound. I've heard you make a sonic boom before."

"Hey, that's a great name," said Dash with delight. "Sonic Boom."

"Then we're settled," Mrs. Parr declared. "Invisible Force and Sonic Boom."

"Invisible Farce," Dash joked.

"Sonic Boob," Violet rejoined.

While Helen struggled to put an end to their bickering, Bob had been drawn into a phone conversation with an earnest young man.

"Let me put my wife on the line," he offered. "She's the one who makes these decisions."

"I understand that your wife makes these decisions," said the young man in a monotonic voice, "but did you know that for only seventy-nine cents for each one hundred dollars of your outstanding balance, your credit account will be protected against such unpredictable events as sickness, job loss, and identity theft?"

"Uh, yes, you just told me," said Bob impatiently. "Look, if you want us to have this protection so badly, why don't you just make it standard and not charge us extra for it?"

"I understand that you don't want to be charged extra for it," said the phone representative, "but did you know that for only seventy-nine cents for each one hundred dollars of your outstanding..."

"Wait a minute," Bob interrupted sharply. "Are you a real person?"

As the man on the phone repeated his spiel for the fourth time, Bob heard a series of clicks. "I've got a call on the other line," he said with relief.

When he took the second call, a calm and serious voice greeted him. "May I speak to Helen Parr?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"No, you may not."

Wondering why his wife was involved in a top-secret matter of which he knew nothing, Bob motioned for Helen to take the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. P, this is Edgar Best. Don't tell anyone about this call."

Helen's heart plummeted. Her darkest fears had been confirmed.

"Er, thank you, but we already have a subscription to Better Parenting Magazine," she spoke nervously into the receiver.

"Meet me at eight o'clock behind the fabric store on 12th and Hood," came Edgar's voice. "Come alone."

"Eight o'clock," Helen carelessly repeated. Glancing at her husband in the easy chair, she added, "That's my children's bedtime. Any more survey questions?"

The connection went dead.

----

Under the pretense of needing velvet to make a dress for her newborn niece, Helen made her way, sans super suit, to the meeting point that Edgar had specified.

She stood next to a dumpster, in the dim glow of the street lights, for five minutes. Edgar finally arrived, wearing a sweat suit and jogging shoes. She hadn't seen him for more than a year, but she recognized him immediately--as the face behind Bald Eagle's mask.

"Did you tell anyone?" he asked quietly.

Helen shook her head.

"My folks wouldn't understand," said the son of Lucius and Honey.

"I don't understand either," said Mrs. Parr sternly.

Edgar took a deep, somber breath and began his tale. "When I was fifteen, I made up my mind to become a superhero like my dad, even though I had no powers. So I started training in secret--martial arts, weapons, gadgets, everything. When my folks asked me why I was gone all the time, I didn't answer. They thought I was mad at them."

"I'm not interested in your life story," Helen stopped him. "I want to know why you helped to steal the bolonium from the lab."

"You got it all wrong, Mrs. P," Edgar insisted. "I was there to keep it from being stolen. If you hadn't interfered..."

"Who stole it, then?" Mrs. Parr demanded.

Edgar leaned closer and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "A very dangerous dude who calls himself Cloud Cover. He can slip in anywhere by turning his body into vapor. He works for The Solon."

"The what?"

"A criminal mastermind," the young man explained. "He's got his hands in every crooked scheme in Metroville. I don't know who he is, but I'm close to finding out."

"This sounds like a job for the police," Helen remarked.

"The police can't touch him," Edgar went on. "The supers can't touch him either. Only I can, because I don't play by the rules."

Mrs. Parr glared disapprovingly at him.

"You just don't get it, do you? The rules were made by crooks like The Solon to protect themselves. Do you really think the super relocation program was meant to protect innocent people from the careless use of super powers? It was the crooks who came up with it, Mrs. P."

Seeing that Helen remained incredulous, Edgar sighed hopelessly.

"Let's change the subject," Mrs. Parr suggested. "Why does this Solon fellow want the bolonium?"

"I was getting to that," Edgar answered. "The bolonium is the last element he needs to create a weapon of unimaginable power."

"I thought bolonium wasn't used for weapons."

"I'm not talking about a bomb, or a gun, or anything like that." Edgar glanced warily in both directions. "This is where it gets crazy. You see, The Solon's not only a master criminal, but a master alchemist. I think he's trying to make a Philosopher's Stone."

"I've heard of that," said Helen thoughtfully. "What does he want to do, turn lead into gold? Take over the world economy?"

"More than that. If he succeeds, he'll gain the power to transmute matter in any way he chooses."

----

What is The Solon's fiendish plan? How many chapters will pass before we even meet him? The answers to this question, and many more, will be revealed...eventually!


	4. The Old Life

The following morning was Sunday, and the Parr family decided to attend church with their neighbors, the Hamiltons. The reverend of the local parish was an old man of fiery temperament, who looked forward to a far better world.

"God made all of us equal," he preached from a wooden pulpit. "It's not right for one person to have powers and abilities beyond those of another. It's the duty of every God-fearing man and woman to oppose political measures that legalize the use of super powers. The supers must content themselves with the normal lives which God intended for them to live. Anything else is a dangerous abomination. They may mean well when they start out, but the temptation to abuse their powers is ultimately too great to withstand. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Neither the Parrs nor the Hamiltons found the sermon to their liking. As for Dash, he was almost too bored to notice that the reverend was demonizing his kind. Looking for a way to entertain himself, he set in motion an elaborate prank that started with borrowing a pair of scissors from his mother's purse.

His parents, staring forward lazily, didn't see him briefly flicker out of existence. Nor did they ask him where he had suddenly obtained a red sheet of paper (it was from the chapel's bulletin board). Only Violet paid any heed to his tomfoolery. After rapidly scissoring a shape from the red paper, the fleet-footed boy vanished again for a split-second.

"I close with a word of warning," continued the reverend, and all present were happy that he had started his sentence with the words 'I close'. "The supers are very cunning. They pass themselves off as our neighbors, our friends. There may be supers in this very congregation. Do not encourage their works, but rather, denounce them. Let them know, in the spirit of brotherhood and friendship, that God hates them. Amen."

The reverend strode away from the pulpit, and the congregation burst into irreverent laughter. For attached to the seat of his pants was a devil tail made from bright red paper.

Reactions to Dash's stunt were mixed. "You must've been going Mach 5, at least," Bob commended his son. "I'm surprised your suit didn't burn off."

"I'm ashamed of you, Dash," Helen chided the boy. "That was a mean trick to play on a person, and it's even worse that you used your powers."

"At least I didn't run with scissors," said Dash flippantly.

Shortly they met with the Hamiltons in the chapel parking lot, to discuss the reverend's message. "As you can tell, it's not a very enlightened parish," Mr. Hamilton admitted. "We only attend to fit in."

"It must be very uncomfortable," Bob reflected, "especially since you're supervillains."

Not far away, Violet did her best to ignore the presence of Chris, who had initiated a conversation with Dash. "It's about time someone taught that self-righteous prig a lesson," she remarked. The blond girl was wearing a polka-dotted Sunday dress, and had parted her hair to cover half her face, as was her habit.

"I was about to die of boredom," Dash responded. "It's not my fault the medical community hasn't recognized boredom as a cause of death."

"He thinks he's so perfect," Chris grumbled, looking across the lot to where the reverend was conversing with a few elderly ladies. "Just once I'd like to walk up to him and show him my face, and see if he can resist."

Once they had returned to their homes, Helen took a moment off from preparing lunch to visit the Hamiltons, while Chris tried to obtain an audience with Violet at her house.

"We heard you were involved in a little scuffle at the national lab," said Mrs. Hamilton, who sat in the living room with her husband and Helen. "Not that it's any of our business."

"Fighting crime is everyone's business," was Helen's reply. "Except for yours, of course. That's why I'm here. I'm looking for information on a certain criminal."

"Why did you come to us?" asked Mr. Hamilton with veiled sarcasm. "We don't know any criminals."

Helen took a deep, ominous breath. "He's called The Solon."

Ike and Gloria Hamilton suddenly went pale with fear.

"You've heard of him?"

The Hamiltons didn't answer. They turned to each other with shocked expressions, as if their death sentence had just been announced.

"Well?" said Helen with impatience.

Mrs. Hamilton regained her composure enough to speak. "I'm sorry. We can't help you."

A moment of painful silence went by, as Helen wondered if her neighbors knew more--much more--than they were letting on.

"I can tell you this much," said Mr. Hamilton after glancing suspiciously out the window. "You asked us once why the government would create a program to hide supervillains."

Her curiosity piqued, Helen waited breathlessly for the man's answer.

"Like everyone else, supervillains have bosses," Mr.Hamilton went on. "Only these bosses are not people you want to disappoint. It's like having a job you can't quit. The only way out is to be terminated."

"I see," said Helen thoughtfully. "Are you saying The Solon is your boss?"

"This has been a lovely conversation," Mrs. Hamilton chimed in, "but Ike and I really need to get ready for our shift at the homeless shelter."

Meanwhile, Chris was vainly trying to get the attention of Violet, whose upturned nose was buried in a fashion magazine.

"I'm really sorry for what I did," said the blond girl, standing in the dorrway of Violet's bedroom. "It's like the reverend said--with super powers comes the temptation to abuse them."

Violet only grunted indifferently and turned the page.

"I still want to be your friend," said Chris earnestly. "I promise I'll never turn into a boy around you again."

The raven-haired girl finally laid down her magazine. "That's not enough," she said with a bitter scowl. "I want you to tell your parents the truth."

A cold shudder passed through Chris' heart. "They'll kill me," she protested.

"What's more important to you," Violet asked her, "staying alive, or being my friend?"

Chris could only stare blankly, unsure of how to answer the question, or what the true answer was. Turning her back on Violet meant turning her back on every friend she would ever make, due to the complications her powers brought into her relationships. Yet to embrace and explore her special gift meant defying her parents, a step which could place her family and friends in jeopardy.

As she walked slowly away from the Parr house, she wondered about the old life her parents had described to her--the life they had led before going underground to protect her. Life under The Solon...

----

To be continued! Please review!


	5. The Wrath of Plutonia

The next morning Robert Parr leaped from his bed, full of youthful vigor, his mind razor-sharp, anticipating a happy day of fighting evil and helping customers with their insurance claims.

Then he woke up.

"Uuuhhh..." he groaned. His muscles still ached from the beating he had taken from Anna Konda, a.k.a. Mrs. Hamilton, with whom he now had to be friendly due to the threat of mutually assured identity exposure. His superhuman body was long overdue for a super-recharge, but it was Monday, and he would have to settle for caffeine.

He staggered to the kitchen, dressed in a robe, his eyes half shut. Helen, bright and chipper as always, was preparing a nutritious breakfast of oatmeal and grapefruit. It seemed to Bob that his wife never tired, that pain and weariness only bounced off her skin.

"Where's the paper, honey?" he asked, dropping into a wooden chair that hardly supported his bulk.

Helen smiled and stretched the arm that wasn't stirring oatmeal. It opened the door a crack, slipped through, and retracted, clutching the morning paper.

Bob snatched it from her hand, and began to read. "Hmm, this is strange. Someone returned the stolen bolonium to the laboratory."

"Let me see that," said Helen, distracted from her cooking.

The front-page article stated that the casket containing five ounces of precious bolonium had turned up on Sunday evening in front of the entrance to the very building from which it had been stolen. Furthermore, its contents were unspoiled and still usable.

"Why would someone go to the trouble of stealing a valuable material, only to return it two days later?" Bob wondered aloud.

"I haven't the foggiest," was Helen's response.

Just before she remembered to stir the oatmeal again, a thought flashed through her mind. Edgar, a.k.a. Bald Eagle, had warned her that The Solon needed bolonium to create a Philosopher's Stone--a device that would grant him unlimited power over matter. Could it be that the arch-criminal had succeeded, and had exercised his new power to simply create more bolonium?

----

When Mrs. Parr left Violet at the curb next to Shadowglen High School, Chris was waiting there, book bag in hand, thick hair over one eye. Violet tried to ignore her while walking past, but the blond girl grabbed her arm.

"I told my parents," she said quietly and bitterly. "They grounded me for a month. I hope you're happy."

Violet hesitantly reached out and pushed aside Chris' parted hair, inspecting her whole face for evidence of physical abuse. She found none.

"They didn't kill you," she observed.

"Not this time." Chris let go of Violet's arm, and the two girls walked into the school together. "They say if they ever catch me turning into a boy again, they'll throw me out of the house. I think they're serious."

"That's harsh," Violet remarked. "But I don't see why you would want to be a boy. What's wrong with being a girl?"

"Nothing," Chris replied. "I just have a feeling that maybe I'm not supposed to be one."

"If you feel so strongly about it," Violet suggested, "why don't you just switch and stay switched forever?"

"Because I could be wrong," Chris answered. "Besides, my legal identity is female. I'd have to get it changed, and that would attract attention. Imagine if the tabloids got their hands on the story."

"But you've already attracted attention," Violet pointed out. "Everyone in Metroville knows about The Transfixer."

"Not so loud," Chris cautioned her, glancing about to make sure the other students didn't hear. "If my identity gets out, my parents and I will be in mortal danger."

"Mortal danger?" Violet repeated incredulously. "Are you afraid the superheroes will kill you?"

"It's not them I'm worried about."

Chris refused to say more, and the girls parted ways. As Violet walked toward Mr. Garner's art classroom, she felt once again the sensation of being invisible to all around. Only the girls whom Chris had introduced to her bothered to wave in greeting, and they had little to say.

----

A vast grid of cubicles filled the cavernous headquarters of the Protect4Life Insurance Company. One of them belonged to, or rather was inhabited by, Robert Parr.

While the hulking claims adjuster was studying the case of a family whose house had burned down due to faulty electrical wiring, a message came over his phone. "Mr. Pei wants to speak to you immediately," came the voice of an administrative assistant.

Two weeks had passed since Bob had started at Protect4Life. His boss had paid little notice to him, but this had suddenly changed. He knew he was in deep trouble for some mysterious reason.

Mr. Pei was a short Korean man with horn-rimmed glasses. He welcomed Bob into his office with a smile, instead of the menacing glower that had been the trademark of his Insuracare boss, Mr. Huph.

"I brought you in here to commend you on the fine work you've done," said Mr. Pei. Bob felt compelled to ask why his boss had seen it necessary to demand his immediate presence, but chose not to spoil the moment. "Since you started here, customers have become much more knowledgeable about their rights under our policies. This has led to an increase in..."

As his supervisor heaped accolades upon him, Bob picked up a disturbing sound with his super hearing. It was a cocktail of crumbling bricks, shattering glass, and frightened human screams. It was getting closer.

"You're an example to everyone who works here," Mr. Pei continued. "For that reason, I want to offer you a promotion to..."

"Hold that thought," said Bob, sticking out a hand to silence his boss.

"Wait!" Mr. Pei called to the man of muscle as he hurried from the office. "Don't you want to be promoted?"

Mr. Incredible's super suit was hidden underneath a false bottom in his briefcase. His work area was crowded, so he was forced to change in a public bathroom on the first floor. "I really need to buy a new Incredimobile," he grumbled.

The townspeople cheered with delight as their champion and protector raced down 7th Street toward the disturbance. Ahead of him, the brick-and-mortar wall of a four-story public library was collapsing. Citizens fled in terror from the falling debris and the creature that appeared to be causing the destruction--an eight-foot-tall woman with glowing green skin, bulging muscles, and unruly red tresses. She wore a somewhat revealing costume whose material resembled aluminum foil, and her feet were bare. With each punch she threw at the library's foundation, brick and concrete gave way, weakening the structure.

Three stories above her head, another hero was at work--the winged avenger known as Bald Eagle. The bird-faced man was carrying trapped library patrons from the upper parts of the building to the street below. When he saw Mr. Incredible approaching, he gave the man of muscle a thumbs-up.

Ignoring Bald Eagle's activities for the moment, Mr. Incredible confronted the giant green woman directly. "Who are you?" he inquired.

The colossus replied in a gruff, arrogant voice. "I was once a nuclear scientist, until a reactor meltdown exposed me to powerful omega waves. The accident gave me superhuman strength and an overwhelming urge to repeat my origin story to anyone who asks. I call myself...PLUTONIA!"

"Be careful, Mr. P!" yelled Bald Eagle from the air. "Her body gives off deadly radiation!"

While Mr. Incredible tried to figure out why Bald Eagle had addressed him as Mr. P, a massive green fist plowed into his abdomen, repelling him half a block away and through the wall of an Italian restaurant. The man of muscle recovered his strength and posture quickly, although he felt slightly queasy in the stomach.

Plutonia was hurtling toward him, her face a green mask of rage. Mr. Incredible reacted to the threat by ripping a light pole out of the sidewalk, and swinging it like a club. There was a loud thump, and the green leviathan flew across the street into the ruins of the library. The entire building began to topple just as Bald Eagle flew out of the upper floor with the last two library occupants under his arms.

The blow didn't keep Plutonia down for long. Within moments she and Mr. Incredible were charging at each other. The man of muscle, wanting to end the conflict with minimal property damage, was determined to subdue the monstrous woman by a simple test of strength. They collided with tremendous force, Mr. Incredible's speed and Plutonia's bulk equalizing each other.

Upon regaining their wits, the two combatants seized each other in a grappling match. Mr. Incredible had been a champion wrestler in high school, and still recalled many of the moves intended to immobilize opponents. Plutonia resisted fiercely, but the man of muscle's skill soon rendered her helpless. She lay face down over the white line in the street, as Mr. Incredible bound her hands and feet with the lamp post he had struck her with earlier. He had triumphed--so why was he feeling more nauseous by the second?

Bald Eagle swooped down, wrapping his arms around Mr. Incredible's torso and dragging him away from the fallen green woman. The two heroes landed on the sidewalk and rolled for a few yards.

"Didn't you hear me?" Bald Eagle chided the man of muscle. "Plutonia's radioactive. You could die just from standing next to her. You've got to keep the people away."

Before Mr. Incredible could answer, the masked bird man spread his cybernetic wings and soared vertically into the sky.

Minutes later police officers arrived to tranquilize Plutonia, cover her in a lead tarp, and transport her to a maximum-security prison. Surrounded by grateful townsfolk, Mr. Incredible forgot about Bald Eagle's involvement in the battle or his surprising familiarity.

"Thanks to you, the city is safe once again."

"How can I ever repay you for saving my life?"

"Can I get your autograph, Dynaguy?"

So occupied was Mr. Incredible by the attentions of the citizens he had saved, that he failed to notice an old man standing in their midst. The remarkably tall man sported a short white beard, a Victorian suit, and a top hat. He stood quietly, stoically, allowing the other anxious townspeople to approach the hero before he did. And then, as Mr. Incredible turned his back, the man reached into his jacket and drew out a small object...

----

More soon!


	6. Powerless

Following the battle with Plutonia, Bob returned to his office and tried to resume work. His unsettled stomach plagued him, however, and by the time lunch break came along, the mere thought of food almost made him retch. He reluctantly approached Lori, Mr. Pei's administrative assistant, and informed her that he wanted to take off the second half of the day.

"Not a problem," the curly-haired young woman responded. "A lot of people were shaken up by the attack of the big green woman. It's not easy living in Metroville, what with the crime, and supervillains, and rude drivers, but still, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else."

As he drove back to the suburbs in his little economy car, Bob formulated a plan for recuperation that involved lying on his back for two straight days with no meals. Bald Eagle had warned him of the danger from Plutonia's radioactive body. Why hadn't he listened, and tried to bring her down with a distance attack?

After stopping in the driveway, he sat motionlessly and groaned for a few seconds before opening the door. He gripped the door frame to support himself while struggling to his feet. A fresh wave of nausea suddenly hit him. He grimaced in pain and squeezed mightily with his fingers. When it passed, he realized that he had probably left finger-shaped dents in the car body. Prepared for the worst, he relaxed his grasp on the door frame.

It was intact. The door closed normally, without any resistance.

He felt relief first, then concern. He had once crushed a diamond in his hand with the same amount of pressure he had just applied to the car--yet there it was, undamaged. Was his strength failing him?

No neighborhood kids on tricycles were nearby, so he bent over and tried to tilt up the car, being careful to lift with his knees instead of his back. It hardly moved.

Helen was pasting some new digital photos of Jack-Jack in an album when her husband entered the house. "You're back early," she observed. "Is everything okay?"

Bob didn't reply, but headed directly for the living room. Reaching down, he placed his bulky arms underneath the couch and tried to raise it above his head. He had done so hundreds of times while rearranging the furniture to satisfy Helen's need for proper "feng shui", but this time he couldn't lift it even an inch.

His wife came into the room, extending her arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. "You don't look well," she said sympathetically. "I heard about your fight with the radioactive woman. Maybe you should see Dr. Fitz."

"I've lost my powers," Bob lamented, shaking his head.

"I'm sure it's temporary," Helen encouraged him. "Now go get some rest, and I'll call the doctor."

Bob mumbled skeptically to himself while trudging toward the bedroom. "I've been sick before, but I've never lost my powers before."

He fell backwards onto the mattress, and was out like a light. Worried for his health, Helen stretched her arm toward the telephone--which rang just as she was picking up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. P. This is Edgar."

Helen gasped. First Bob had come home ill, and now the mysterious Bald Eagle was calling her. Coincidence? She thought not.

"How's your husband?" Edgar inquired politely.

"Um, he's a little under the weather," Helen replied.

"He's sick? What are his symptoms?"

She deliberated briefly whether Edgar could be trusted with the information, then went ahead, supposing he might know a secret or two. "He looks like he has the flu. Not only that, but...well, his super strength is gone."

Edgar let out an exasperated sigh. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what?"

Edgar spoke calmly and seriously. "Mrs. P, have you ever read _The Art of War _by Sun Tzu?"

"No."

"The Solon subscribes to Sun Tzu's philosophy," the son of Lucius and Honey continued. "He never underestimates his enemies, and he never reveals his true strength to them. I believe he has a Philosopher's Stone, but he wants to keep it hidden so that no one will try to devise a strategy against it. I believe he used the Stone to create a new batch of bolonium just to throw the scientists off guard. I believe he sent Plutonia to pick a fight with your husband, then secretly used the Stone to destroy his powers, so it would look like a side effect of radiation exposure."

Helen paused momentarily to let Edgar's suggestions sink in. "That's an interesting theory, but do you have any proof?"

"I've got something," the man replied, "though it's too early to call it proof. I took pictures of the crowd that surrounded your husband after the fight. There was one fellow in a suit and top hat who came out of nowhere. I did a face search on the web, and guess what I came up with? Calvin Turnmire, billionaire philanthropist."

"Calvin Turnmire?" Helen marveled. "His foundation paid for the Metroville Stadium. He can't be The Solon."

"Yes, he can," Edgar insisted. "And I intend to prove that he is."

"Stop this, Edgar," demanded Helen, now indignant. "Turnmire is a generous man who cares about his community, and I won't let you persecute him because of a hunch."

"Don't get in my way, Mrs. P," Edgar warned. "The Solon won't stop with your husband. He'll take away the powers of every superhero, one by one--starting with you and your children. I'm your only hope."

----

Will Mr. Incredible get his powers back? Or will The Solon's evil plan succeed? Find out in the exciting sequel, _Power Shortage!_


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